


The A in A.I. Stands For Argumentative

by asexuelf



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Arguing, Connor Deserves Happiness, Domestic, Fluff, Hank Anderson Being an Asshole, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Canon, connor just wants to be your house hubby hank stfu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Connor wants to take care of Hank, but Hank is... well, he's Hank.





	The A in A.I. Stands For Argumentative

**Author's Note:**

> is this fandom still alive anymore? i havent written (or read) for dbh since the debut of the game. in fact, i found this fic i wrote back when it was at its most popular and decided to finish it up and post it, even though it's nearly a year old! :3 
> 
> hope you enjoy! (and happy 4/20)

The front door closes with a slam behind Hank, the movement so aggressive Connor is certain the wood might split. Instead, it’s left shaking momentarily with the force, then reopened a second later as he tries to catch up to his partner.

“Hank,” Sumo snuffles excitedly at Connor’s Cyberlife-issue dress shoes, smiling up at him with a silly, open-mouthed dog grin, unaffected by his human’s (and android’s) obvious distress. Connor leans down to scratch his ear. “You’re being ridiculous. Please, see reason.”

“See _reason_.” Hank’s shouts carry easily through the house, and Connor quickly follows them to the bathroom. He stands outside the closed door, stalling a moment to listen as Hank continues to yell, voice defensive and thick with sarcasm. “See reason! You’re absolutely right, Connor, _I_ should fucking see reason.”

The door to the bathroom is locked when Connor tries it. He stares down at the doorknob, feeling something… _something_. It’s heavy in his chest, and it makes his eyebrows pull together. It is very unpleasant, and although he certainly could place it, a part of him doesn’t quite want to. It’s getting easier to pinpoint these emotions, to name them, to accept them, but not by much - especially when his partner is slamming doors and shouting at him instead of _listening_ to what he’s trying to share.

_Annoyance_ , Connor considers. It aches too much for that to be the correct answer.

“Hank, _please_. There’s no reason for this, this,” Connor gestures towards the bathroom door, realizing a split second after that Hank can’t see it. Perhaps it’s for Sumo, then, who stands nearby, wagging his tail obliviously.

The bathroom door swings open then, and Connor’s sensors push him to take two quick steps backwards as Hank storms past him, dressed down for the night. He enters the bedroom, and slams that door, too.

“Hank!” Connor closes his mouth, presses his teeth together, struggling with this new feeling. “You are being _very childish!”_

It’s strange, yelling here in their house. He’s never done that before; not during an argument, at least. Not like this.

The heavy feeling in his chest drops into his stomach, turning weightless and uncomfortable. Connor realizes, then, that his eyes are growing wet, and it’s becoming difficult to continue speaking.

He knows what the emotion is now.

“Alright. I’ll leave you be.” He speaks to the bedroom door, eyes staring directly at it but not quite focused on it either. He can’t quite keep the waver out of his voice - hasn’t learned how to yet.

Not enough practice.

Something bitter inside him hopes that Hank feels guilty to hear it, that it breaks his heart, too, but Connor dismisses it instantly. “I’m going into stasis tonight. Please, do not attempt to bother me.”

He makes his way to the couch, sits himself down in such a way so as to not fall over during his diagnostics, and then goes into ‘sleep’ mode so quickly he almost misses Sumo laying across his lap. It may be unnecessary to go into stasis so quickly - or at all, since he is functioning perfectly and needs no software repairs - but it’s better than thinking about what went wrong in the car.

*

The day had been going well, all things considered.

Things were finally starting to culminate into something _good_ for androids - not perfect, no, but Markus was making great strides towards complete equality, and the public opinion overall was warm with approval.

Fowler had even offered Connor a _paycheck._  There were already androids earning wages, but with no law yet demanding they be paid, and with the unemployment rate already so high, it was rare enough to leave Connor blinking, his LED flashing yellow as he processed the offer, before grinning and accepting gratefully.

He had assumed that Fowler wouldn’t offer - Connor was more than happy to continue his work as a detective for free. After all, it’s not as if he required things like food or medicine; and he already had shelter living with Hank. Money could be useful, however, Connor reasoned, for things like saving up for repairs in case of an accident, or for helping pay for necessities at home.

He left Fowler’s office feeling chipper, and if he allowed a skip in his step as he made his way back to his desk, he received just as many odd glances as usual.

Hank raised an eyebrow at him as he sat across from him, his disbelief made evident by the crinkle of his nose. “The fuck happened in that office?”

His reaction was a logical one; people rarely left Fowler’s office in anything resembling a good mood - especially a certain android and human duo.

Connor looked at Hank with a wide-eyed, open expression. “I am now being compensated for my work here with the DPD.” He tilts his head to the side. “I must admit to being surprised. I was not expecting to be paid before it was legally required.”

Hank’s grin could only be described as blinding. “Connor, that’s great! Maybe you can get some things for your desk, now. Thing’s so bland, you wouldn’t know anyone even sat there.”

Connor glanced up, running his eyes quickly over the empty desk. There’s a stark difference between his own desk and the humans’ desks around him.

Most people had pictures or stickers at their desk; Hank's desk, especially, was a mess of photographs and metal band logos and "memes". It was also, Connor noted happily, free of any remaining anti-android propaganda.

“Yes… Maybe I will.”

They worked together mostly in silence after that, until Hank stretched, stood, and ushered Connor out the door.

On the way to the car, they walked close, their shoulders touching, Hank asking semi-sarcastically if it was alright to cheat on his diet a bit and grab a burger from Gary - it was, Connor assured him. The drive there was an experience Connor typically enjoyed; Hank put music on, low enough so he could converse with his partner, and they talked about little things, like Hank’s favorite sports teams, about some stunt Gary had pulled once, about Captain Fowler. These topics continued to the food truck.

When driving them back home, half-way through his burger, Hank asked, “So, what do you think you’ll buy?”

Connor regarded him for a moment. “Hank?”

“With your new paycheck.” Hank shrugged. “What do you want to buy?”

Connor considered the question again. It was a good idea to put most of the money aside, in the case of an emergency, but there were little things Connor could consider - perhaps a new toy or bed for Sumo, or some less health-conscious snacks to keep Hank’s diet balanced and pleasing… There weren’t many things that Connor himself wanted beyond the sight of Hank’s smiling face and Sumo’s wagging tail.

“Well?”

Connor focused on Hank, turning his head to the side thoughtfully. “I can’t think of anything particular. I’d prefer the money go towards something sensible.”

Hank snorted. “Of course you would. Let’s see, sensible - a change of clothes, maybe?”

Connor looked down at his attire; it was the same uniform he’d always worn, minus the jacket and the armband. Perhaps a new coat could be added to the list.

“Or, what else,” Hank chewed thoughtfully, eyes pointed skyward. Connor paid special attention to the road. “All I can think of is groceries and rent, but there’s no way I’m letting you pay for those.”

Conner blinked. “Why not?”

Hank gave his partner a look, raising an eyebrow. “Because you don’t eat, and I refuse to make you pay _rent._ ”

Connor raised an eyebrow back. “I live in the same home, Hank. Helping you pay bills is hardly paying rent.” He tilted his head again, considering. “And most of my ideas technically were groceries - ideas for you and Sumo, to keep you healthy.” He raised his eyebrows, perking up. “I could buy some things to keep the house clean. We’re in need of new kitchenware, as well.”

Connor searched the network briefly for new kitchen sets, already checking prices, despite Hank vehemently shaking his head.

“Absolutely not. I can pay for those things, you should buy yourself something _you_ want.”

Connor froze for a moment, seeing his LED flash in the corner of his eye. “These _are_ things I want, Hank.”

“No, these are things for me and Sumo. They aren't things for _you_."

"I'm not allowed to want your health and happiness?"

"Damn it, Connor!" Hank banged the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. "That's not what I'm saying-!"

"I _like_ cooking and cleaning, Hank. I like taking care of the house. I like, in a general sense, being of use-"

The car turned dangerously into the driveway. It was barely even in park before Hank was throwing himself out of the vehicle and stomping away.

*

Connor is pulled out of stasis by his fire safety protocols. Sensing smoke, his internal alarms throws his consciousness out of his repairs and back into his home. He scans the room immediately, but it doesn’t take an android to see the small trail of smoke trailing from the kitchen.

He stands quick as lightning, running towards the kitchen, already pulling up his information on putting out fires in a safe and- Oh.

It’s just Hank.

Hank is cursing, still dressed in his pajamas (although Connor’s internal clock tells him it’s currently 10 a.m.), holding a pan of blackened, smoking mess that only Connor’s sensors can determine were once eggs. Looking gruff and embarrassed, he hovers the pan over the sink.

He does not appear to be burned or otherwise injured in any way.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Connor looks up quickly from the eggs, meeting Hank’s eyes. He struggles not to look away, finding that those usually comforting blue eyes make the frustration and hurt from yesterday come roiling back.

“I was, uh… distracted while making breakfast is all. You can go back to…” Hank struggles a moment, before simply nodding his head in his partner’s direction. “You know.”

Connor shakes his head minutely. “No need, Hank. I finished everything I needed.” Instead of the usual software updates and general tune-ups, he had been focused on recharging his biocomponents and searching for more adequate information on emotional responses. Connor finds, however, that he doesn’t want to share that with Hank.

“No more bugs?” His partner attempts at a joke, to lighten the mood. He stares at the sink, eyebrows raised in an attempt to appear casual. It does not work.

“None at all, Lieutenant.” Connor replies.

Hank turns again, possibly to gauge Connor’s reaction, and something in his face seems to change, belaying his regret.

_Good,_  that part of Connor flares up again, angry, unreasonable.

Again, Connor squashes it down, refusing to act on such base impulses. Just because he’s upset with Hank doesn’t mean he should be cruel. Nothing productive can come from that.

“Why are you making breakfast?” He keeps his voice free of the nasty emotions turning inside him. It wouldn’t do to start another argument so early in the morning. _Nothing productive can come from that_. Connor repeats that to himself, to combat the pang of hurt that springs up at the realization that Hank was _cooking himself breakfast._  “I don’t mind cooking breakfast, Hank.”

Hank shrugs. “We had an argument, didn’t we?”

More anger. Connor enjoys making Hank food - he enjoys taking care of him. What was so difficult to comprehend about that? The anger doesn’t touch his voice as he continues, “That wouldn’t stop me from feeding you.”

Hank sighs, then drops the pan into the sink with a loud clatter, turning both towards and away from Connor at the same time, his body facing his partner and his face angled away. “I know you wouldn’t, but I… couldn’t think of a way to say sorry. Thought I’d fix up breakfast and make the table or something.”

Connor cocks his head to the side, confused now. “I… don’t eat, Hank.”

“I know that!” Hank’s head whips up, his blue eyes offended and, if Connor was correct, still embarrassed. “Not like there’s much else, though. Figured you wouldn’t appreciate it if I left batteries on the coffee table or something.” Belatedly, he adds, “Motor oil.”

Connor can’t help but smile. His chest feels much lighter, now. “Robot jokes.”

“In this house, we are racially insensitive.” There’s something mocking about Hank’s tone - not directed at Connor, but instead at the man Hank used to be.

This time, Connor’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “So I’ve noticed, Lieutenant.”

Hank huffs, and his open-mouth exhale turns from an apologetic grin to an apologetic frown. “Listen, Connor… You're an ass, but I’m a bigger one. I just…” He runs a hand through his grey hair with a sigh. “You’re my partner, Connor, at work _and_ in life. You’re not some…”

If he were human, he’d roll his eyes. As it is, Connor’s gaze drops to the tile, eyebrows raised. “Android?” he supplies.

“That’s not what I mean!” Connor looks back up. “I mean you aren’t my property. You don’t have to _cook_ and _clean_ and-”

“You set eggs on fire and then threw them into the sink.”

Hank stills for a moment, mouth still open. He shuts it, then opens it again. “I was distracted. And anyways, it was too hot to clean. I’ll clean it when we’re done with this conversation.”

Connor regards Hank’s brief return of embarrassment in mild interest, if only to avoid the exasperation at the idea of Hank _still not getting it._  “What were you distracted by?”

Hank exhales hard, again, meeting Connor’s eyes almost unwillingly. Scratching the back of his neck, he replies quietly, “I was watching you sleep… Or, be in stasis, or whatever it is.”

Pleasure fills Connor’s chest. “I thought you were angry at me.”

“I’m not _angry,_ I’m just…” He thinks for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyebrows drawn together in obvious irritation. “I don’t want you thinking you have to do these things for me. You aren’t my property, you’re my _partner._  I’m not gonna have you going around like some kind of domestic android that I bought on sale.”

That anger bubbles in Connor’s chest again, and the smile he didn’t realize he’d had falls off his face. “You keep saying things like that; I’m not property. I’m free, so I shouldn’t do certain things. But, logically, Hank, if I want to do these things, shouldn’t I be free to?” He swallows, despite having no need to - the most it does is shake his vocal systems, forcing him to wait a moment while they settle.

Hank is quiet during these moments, but Connor’s refusing to look at his face, feeling his LED whir between yellow and red. He’s staring very hard at Hank’s chest, eyes trained on a small stain on the old sleep shirt so they don’t have to look anywhere else. So they don’t have to see Hank and know what he’s feeling.

Despite what Connor says, Hank is right in some ways - he’s always been the kind of person that wants to please those around him, first and foremost. Denying Cyberlife’s hold over him didn’t suddenly make that go away.

The idea of Hank being upset, of Hank breaking off the relationship they’re working on together, makes repeating these things difficult.

“I want to take care of you, Hank. I like making you breakfast and I like knowing that the house is clean. I like making sure you are healthy. I like walking Sumo, and grocery shopping, and,” He meets Hank’s eyes finally, sighing softly at the look in them - some strange valley between fear and want. Connor feels his own face smooth out into something less troubled, but only by a margin. “I understand your concerns, Hank, but if I’m free, then I should be able to discuss these things with you.”

Hank’s mouth curls into an odd position, but after a few seconds of contemplation, he nods. “You’re right. You’re right, Connor, I’m sorry.” He sighs. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m going to turn you away just because you aren’t being _useful_ , or something. I don’t know what it’s like, to have Cyberlife and their programming clogging up your head, but I -” He stops, again, and gives Connor a serious look. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, Hank.”

Hank’s sigh is one of relief, this time. “Well… That’s good, then. Everything’s settled, no more arguments, right?”

The side of Connor’s mouth quirks up, his smile matched by the man in front of him. “Correct. At least,” he lets the smile drop, a joke, “for now.” Hank laughs quietly, a sound of affection as much as amusement, and Connor continues, “But, I would _like_ to continue discussing these things. This is _our_ home, so we both have a say.”

Hank nods. “Of course.” He crosses the room, wrapping his arms around Connor, and Connor doesn’t bother to contain the extent of his happiness at the action.

“Thank you, Hank.” Connor presses their foreheads together, perfectly relaxed in Hank’s arms. “If you find that you want anything, let me know. I’ll do what I can.”

“I know you will, Connor.” A kiss is pressed just beneath Connor’s LED. “You’re cute when you put your foot down.”

Having no appropriate verbal response to that, Connor pulls away and winks.

**Author's Note:**

> 💖 comments and kudos are an android's best friends!


End file.
